A postcard from the memory bank
To market, to market
This is the penultimate edition of ‘Eating Together’, a mini four-part series, where I revisit selected off-cuts and soundbites from the storygathering trips for Plates, Vol.2: Durian. If you’re new to these weekly postcards (welcome!), you can catch-up here:
#1 Eating Together: Food Mass
#2 Eating Together: Stir-fry Durian
Eating together: To market, to market
Farmers' markets. How I've missed them. Not so much the shoulder to shoulder ducks and shoves. But the buzz of unintelligible chatter; melding together gossip, one-up remarks, familiarity, feigned surprise and persuasion.
One’s reception at a market can perhaps serve as a measure of place and belonging. Like that familiar staff at a bakery, who sneaks you an extra pastry, or a neighbourhood cafe who offers to fill up your water bottle—even when you’re not dining in; the market rewards those who show up with regularity.
A week into inquisitive drop-ins and lurkings by the veranda of the longhouse and the orchards of neighbours, the act of simply observing appears to bear fruit. Planted on what appears to be a single plot of land behind the longhouse, where residents recognise their respective fruit trees, some people like Umit, who patiently sits on a wooden deck as she answers interview questions calmly and poses for her profile piece for Plates, Vol. 2 Durian, "waits for the durian to fall". There were after all cases of stolen durians in the past week.
Phot
Photo: Umit (seated) and Ping Luhat (in hat, in the distance) at the farmers’ market.
Once at the market, running into familiar faces, though recently acquainted, provides a sense of belonging—even if only temporary. I run into Umit, who happens to have her table of greens set up next to Ping Luhat, a lady who earlier that week, offered me a hand-rolled cigarette one late night on the veranda.
We exchange small talk and pleasantries—again. Revisiting questions. How are you? Have you eaten? What time did you get here? Where are you going next? When will you be back?
The two ladies proceed to grab a handful of fruits from their respective tables. Shoving them into a plastic bag and then into my hands despite objections. They still had the remaining afternoon until the market closes. What was gifted could've been sold.
What do you think of this series? Would you like to hear more stories or see more off-cuts and unpublished photos/videos from the storygathering process of Plates? Let me know in the comments, or reply to this email. Thanks for being here. See you next week.
This week, I’m
working on: a deadline
watching: tonnes of animal rescue videos on The Dodo
Plates is an independent print magazine that uses food as a conversation starter and offers alternatives to mainstream food culture narratives. If you enjoyed reading this postcard, feel free to forward it to a friend; leave a comment; or, if you’ve been meaning to, but haven’t quite gotten around to it, grab a plate and introduce yourself here. Sporadic, but intentional, updates on IG@platesmagazine.